


Puckish Rogue, Actually

by NeverwinterThistle



Series: Extraterrestrial Bromance [1]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 05:17:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverwinterThistle/pseuds/NeverwinterThistle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As ideas go, it's looking less and less clever by the second. But quitting now would be letting the terrorists win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puckish Rogue, Actually

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bobchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobchan/gifts).



> SRIV is amazing, and this is how I express my appreciation. I'd promise not to do it again but let's be honest, I totally will.

”So that's the last thing you wanted done, right? Should I stop for milk on the way home? Or, hey, Leather and Lace is _right there_ if you had any requests-"

 

"You do realise I am standing right behind you? I _should_ be back on the ship trying to hack my way through Zinyak's innumerable defences, but you summoned me into the simulation for something 'urgent'. Last I checked, following you around while you collect data clusters and fire that Bounce Rifle at unfortunate pedestrians does not qualify as 'urgent'. The last mission was on the other side of the bloody city, we could have left right after it was complete!"

 

"Ah, don't be such a buzzkill." It's not so far to the airport from where they are; if Kinzie doesn't need them back in a hurry, he could always take a short detour. No time is a bad time to steal a plane and rain fire down on simulated bystanders- "Wait, are you saying you're not having fun? Come on, Matt, hanging out with me is so much better than staring at that screen of yours."

 

"I have _simulations_ to build for Asha, which are far more intellectually stimulating than...uncontrolled mayhem!"

 

Mmm, yeah. Definitely time for a plane. Or maybe a chopper, something fitted with rockets. See how Zinyak likes it when it's his people going up in smoke. "Simulations? _Why?_ All that's left of MI6 is you and Asha, who are you going to train? Besides, it's good for you to have some people time. Get out, see the world, set it on fire...shining, shimmering, screaming."

 

"That's _not_ how it goes."

 

"Fair enough. Well, chalk it up to team bonding time. I like to know my people, especially if they're standing at my back with weird alien rifle things." He's a little shocked the kid knows one end of a gun from the other in the real world, but maybe that's Asha's doing; he was probably too scared to point out how useless it'd be for someone who spends all their time safe in a bunker. Turns out the lady knew better.

 

Chopper or plane? Johnny would want to know why he can't do both. _Yeah_.

 

He jumps off the rooftop, shooting straight up into the air like a bullet and missing half of Matt's, "I'm not likely to shoot one of my last remaining allies, and even if I did it wouldn't affect you outside of the-". The guy's attractive, in a twinky way, and he can handle a gun well enough not to need babysitting, but someone needs to teach him to lighten up. In some ways he was a lot more fun before MI6 got hold of him.

 

CID zooms past, trailing neon purple blurs. "Kinzie is not speaking to me," he- no, wait, is he an 'it'? But people call their cars and boats 'she', don't they? Fuck it. "I appear to have offended her somehow, though the nature of this offense escapes me," _he_ says. And he actually manages to sound dejected about it, which is pretty spectacular for a round metal ball.

 

"Oh yeah? That's rough, Kinzie holds a grudge like nothing else." The Boss lands squarely in the middle of the motorway, causing incoming cars to screech to a halt. Couple of crashes somewhere down the line; serves them fucking right for not paying attention behind the wheel. He could freeze blast them in place for a bit, promote some vehicle safety while he's there...

 

"Yes. She has informed me that I come within three metres of her she will forcibly insert the nearest pointed object into my ocular cavity."

 

"Ouch."

 

"I merely wished to spend some quality time with her. It has been a long time since I had a woman with which to occupy myself, and while I am incapable of providing her with offspring I have many things to offer as a potential partner-"

 

"You _propositioned_ Kinzie?"

 

"Yes he did." Matt makes an appearance on the rooftop of a nearby Emu, glares down at it and gives it a half-hearted kick. Points for good taste, right there. "And I can't believe she stopped at a warning, the way he phrased it-"

 

"CID, you're a lucky man- robot. A survivor. Pissing off Kinzie is a lot like-" The Emu's driver steps out of his vehicle, slamming the door behind him, and marches over with his fists clenched. Some things never change. "You mind? I'm trying to give some life lessons here." Throat's exposed so that's what he goes for, grabbing the man and throwing him into the wall.

 

Shit. Super powers. Okay, _through_ the wall works too, though it makes the nearby pedestrians scream and scatter in all directions. "What was I saying?"

 

"You were informing me of my good fortune in having survived an apparently ill-advised attempt at flirting with Kinzie. In future, I will be sure to try a different approach." CID bobs vaguely up and down; it's nauseating to watch, like some kind of passive-aggressive way of making everyone around him uncomfortable. Looking elsewhere isn't much of an improvement, though. Zinyak's simulated citizens glitch as they run, flickering in and out of existence while they shove each other out of the way. _That_ 's normal enough at least, but the rest is just fucking freaky.

 

He throws a fireball at a group of them and pulls out a pistol. Nice weight, and the gold plating adds a touch of style he prefers to boring black. Feels just like home.

 

"She'll forgive you if you give her time," Matt says. "I doubt I'd be here if she hadn't pushed for my rescue from the Zin, given the number of times I tried to kill the Boss five years ago. I owe her quite a debt."

 

Headshot, groin shot, kneecap, other kneecap. Fireballs are fully charged, so the Boss tosses a second one at the survivors to keep them happy while- "What, _what_ did you just say?"

 

"I tried to kill you." Matt takes out the driver in the car behind him as they go to step out of their vehicle. "A mistake, I will admit; you're not half as incompetent as I remember, and I appreciate the help you've given me in cracking open the Zin's defences. But you don't trust me, and given the chance I know you'd have preferred to save someone else."

 

The screaming civilians are getting seriously annoying, but the Boss turns his back on the smell of burning flesh to stare up at Matt goddamn Miller on the roof of his Emu. "Hey. _Hey_. What's this about 'owing Kinzie', huh? You know how much convincing I had to do before she stopped yelling at me and actually listened?"

 

"That's not how _she_ describes it." Matt takes aim, and another driver crumples. They have to be setting off alarms in the system by now; just a matter of time before the Zin show up to start trouble. "You wanted Shaundi or Pierce, but she reasoned that someone with my skillset would be of greater use-"

 

"Bullshit. And since when has Kinzie's word been more convincing than the President of the United States'? That's me, by the way."

 

"I couldn't possibly forget, the way you keep pointing it out-"

 

"Humanity's last remaining leader, and the last thing Zinyak'll see before I put a bullet through his skull, yeah. Just making sure you knew. And for the record, it was definitely me who wanted you rescued first. CID was there, he'll tell you, if my word's not good enough for your mistrusting, ungrateful-" Right on time, a Zin patrol spawns to his left, and the Boss hits them squarely with another fireball, sending their vehicle flying. Waiting on the recharge, he switches to a nice old-fashioned assault rifle and lays loose with it.

 

"The Boss is correct. I can play you the exact conversation, if it would lend added credibility to his claim." CID blasts the second approaching Zin patrol with a purple laser thing that makes satisfying sizzling noises on contact. "Accessing recording now:

 

_"-who do you want to grab first? Pierce? Shaundi?"_

_"I, um...think we should get Matt."_

_"Miller?! Oh my god why?!"_

_"Matt turned himself around after Steelport. He joined MI6, helped us with Cyrus Temple, and, y'know, he's useful. Ish."_

_"...Useful?"_

_"You have a lot on your plate, Kinzie. With all this cyberwhatsit, I figure you could use the help."_

_"I'm doing just fine without Matt Miller, thank you."_

_"Two heads are better than one, Kinzie. Set it up."_

"End of recording. Would you like to hear it again?"

"That enough proof for you, or should I get it down in writing too? You got a bible you want me to swear on? Should I pinkie promise? Cross my heart and hope to-"

 

"Yes, alright! I may have been...misled a bit."

 

Zin troops approaching, and the fireball is loading too damn slowly; time to get _personal_.  Guns away, giant green alien tentacle bat _out_ , and he charges for the nearest Zin-

_like Arthur and his men!_

Oleg would be fucking proud of the way Zin skulls crack open on impact, alien gore painting the asphalt like yolk from broken eggs on hungover Sunday mornings. _You fucking killed him, you sons of bitches. Fuck._ "Just keel over and die already," he grunts, and they do; it's not enough, but he'll work on it. Couple of thousand Zin corpses should make him feel a bit better, the way taking out Killbane and his lackeys helped with the rage. What they did at Johnny's funeral- but they won't be doing it again.

 

It's going to be a helicopter. He's really feeling a helicopter, and the Zin can chase him all over fake Steelport while he takes them out one rocket at a time, until Kinzie loses patience and calls him back. The amount of simulation-breaking errands he ran for Matt this session, they can probably stand to cut him some slack.

 

"Why didn't you tell me?"

  
"Huh?" The Boss grabs a nearby police officer meat shield and starts backing towards the shelter of the cars. The Zin'll keep showing up, and they can't hold out forever. Just until the rush of gasoline and blood in the air wears off a little, and he starts feeling the simulated burn of bullets where they make contact.

 

Matt pokes his head out from behind a car, does a quick Zin headcount and ducks back to cover. It's the work of seconds the snap the meat shield's neck and make a dive for the same car. And maybe he looks like a bit of a mess; Matt's eyes widen slightly at the red soaking through his shirt. Feels like it's smeared all over his face too. War paint.

 

"Bloody hell," is all Matt has to say on the matter, so maybe he's learning. Puns in the middle of battle; Kinzie thinks they should be punished with some kind of brutal mutilation, but Kinzie's a kinky girl with worrying hobbies, and he tends to ignore her opinion on things like this.

 

"Yeah, we'll make a run for it in a few. Just let me take that ugly one out, I figure it's a service to Zin womankind."

 

"Why didn't you tell me it was your idea to rescue me? I'd assumed you would rather suffer several painful deaths than come to my rescue, and you never said otherwise."

 

"Seriously? I showed up in a fucking _robot_ , with no weapons, just to rescue your naked ass. Which is great by the way, but that's beside the point. Was it Kinzie in there? No it was not. I can't _believe_ you'd take her word over mine, you traitor-"

 

"I hardly think we've been allies for long enough to justify that accusation!"

 

"Well yeah, but you were _my_ enemy more than Kinzie's. That has to count for something."

 

"More reinforcements approaching," CID pipes up from somewhere nearby. "Might I suggest we flee the area before they overpower us? There are only so many ways to set someone on fire before the amusement wanes."

 

"Bull _shit_. Talk like that is bordering on mutiny, CID, don't fucking let me hear it again." But he's right about the enemies. Two more red Zin patrol cars roll to a halt in the middle of the motorway, and the numbers start looking a bit less promising. "But seeing as I'm running out of things to shoot them with, I guess we can let a few of them live this time. I'll see you on the ship. Dismissed."

 

"Yes, Boss." CID disappears in a haze of static, but Matt holds out a little longer.

 

"What are you going to do? You're not staying, are you?" Big blue eyes; the problem with eyes like that is that they shave a good five years off Matt's age when he's worried. Kid had better make sure he never plays poker. "Boss?"

 

"I'll be back soon, quit stressing. There's an airport over there, and an armed helicopter with my name on it. I'm not quite done with ruining Zinyak's day yet." The car they're hiding behind starts smoking ominously; he grabs Matt by the collar and  throws them over the bonnet of another before the thing can explode in their faces. Fucking shoddy craftsmanship. You'd think by now Steelport would have learnt to make a vehicle that doesn't crumple like paper when you shoot at it. He should've made some sort of presidential decree about that.

"Back to the ship, Matt, I won't tell you again."

 

Matt tugs himself loose and straightens his collar impatiently. "Blowing up _simulated_ aliens won't bring earth back; you do realise that, don't you? Whoever was on there is gone now, and creating towers of digital Zin corpses in their names won't help. Come back to the ship. I'll find something productive for you to do."

 

Shit. So maybe he's read the kid's game wrong. Those big blue eyes might just be perfect for lulling his opponents into thinking he's harmless, before he takes them all down in a single smug play. Asha never taught him that.

 

Towers of Zin corpses sound like a great idea, though. Douse the lot of them with gasoline and set 'em ablaze next Fourth of July. That's...soon, maybe. He's started losing track of time, without lackeys and aides to fill in dates on forms for him. What day was earth destroyed? Kinzie might know. They should do something special for that. Find the Zin home planet and reduce it to smouldering ash, maybe. Nice and symmetrical.

 

"Are you even listening to me?" Matt asks, and the Boss becomes aware of the slow tramp of Zin boots on asphalt heading their way. Low to the ground, weighted down; these ones have shields.

 

"Okay, okay! Back to the ship, no detours for helicopters, in bed by nine, I hear you. Whatever'll make you quit your bitching."

 

"I'm coming with you to the gateway."

 

"Jesus Matt- fine. Keep up if you can, and I'm not rescuing you again if you get lost. You can ask for fucking directions like everyone else."

 

They make a break for it in a hail of Zin laser fire and dismembered Zin limbs (turns out that super Stomp power has its uses, and those uses are _awesome_ ), sprinting for the nearest glowing white doorway and dodging the reinforcements that materialise every few hundred metres. He stops half way to steal a passing Infuego and run over a group of mascots on the sidewalk. To his credit, Matt stops screaming after the first four or so and gets to work sniping the Zin patrols.

 

It's still not the same.

 

"Johnny would have been so disappointed." The restraints retract and he steps carefully down onto the spaceship's floor. Coming out of fake Steelport always leaves his stomach unsettled for a couple of minutes; apparently that's the same for everyone. Kinzie started to explain it at some point, but he tends to tune out when Kinzie explains things. By now she should know better than to assume he's following.

 

"Urgh," is Matt's only contribution; the kid stumbles over to the circular collection of glowing computer screens in the middle of the room and leans his forehead against one of them.

 

The Boss raises his eyebrows. "Should you be doing that?"

 

"It helps a bit." Closing his eyes, Matt tilts his head to press a cheek against the blue screen. "I find myself more comfortable in close proximity to what I know. At least it won't attempt to beat my simulated self to death with a bloody _tentacle_."

 

"Hey, that happened _once_ , and I was just as surprised as you." There's nobody else around so he figures it's fine to rest his hands on his knees and breathe for a minute. Matt's not going to judge. "I was just trying it out for range. You didn't have to go and shoot me."

 

"I flew into a _wall._ There were bits of my precious brain stuck to the concrete, and you just stood there and _laughed_."

 

"It was pretty fucking funny." The nausea is fading, so he's in a better position to appreciate the memory. Kinzie probably has footage on file somewhere. If he can get her to cut it just before Matt pulls out a pistol and obliterates both his kneecaps... "Our first time with a giant tentacle. Matt, I'm honoured to have shared that experience with you."

 

"Don't make me come over there and vomit on your shoes."

 

" _Someone's_ up past his bedtime. Anyone ever tell you that you get grumpy when you skip your nap?" He straightens and the world doesn't spin around him, thankfully. Isn't there anything Kinzie can do to fix this bullshit? New Shaundi would probably have a few ideas, if he gets desperate.

 

Matt's progressed to the point where he can open his eyes and glare. "I'm twenty-one! I'm not a child!" He makes an effort to unglue himself from the computer screen, his cheek bright red where he pressed too hard. "I haven't been for a long time."

 

"I don't know, you were kind of a stupid kid back when Killbane made you his bitch." The Boss throws an arm around Matt's shoulders to keep them both upright. It's an unexpected effort; the guy looks scrawny but looks are deceiving. Though if Kinzie is anything to go by, he probably has his pockets stuffed full of oddly shaped tools and spare cables.

 

"I stopped being a _stupid kid_ around the time Killbane snapped Kiki's neck in front of her sister and me. It simply...took a while to sink in."

 

"Well that's just fucking depressing."

 

Matt shrugs the arm off as soon as he can stand without wobbling, and makes a beeline for the door to the lower levels. Given that he'll probably end up tripping over his own feet on the way down the stairs, it seems like a good idea to follow him. Rescuing the guy was a fucking hassle, and he's not even really part of the crew.

Or, he wasn't. It's been getting harder to tell recently and even Kinzie can't hold a grudge forever. Matt's helped them out a lot, maybe enough to balance the ledger against those three murder attempts. Hell, maybe he's already a Saint and none of them have noticed yet.

 

"I'd say our current predicament rather overshadows it, wouldn't you?" Matt says wryly, navigating the stairs with deliberate care.  "And if it weren't for the fact that Kinzie is unfortunately vital to getting revenge on Zinyak, I'd...plot some kind of suitable response to her manipulating me. Something _memorable_."

 

"God you're cute when you get mad." As with so many things the Boss says, the comment bypasses whatever sad excuse for mental censorship Ben made him build during his time as President, and lands out in the open for all to hear. _Retracting statements_ is for fucking cowards who can't stand by their own words, but it's still pretty tempting to blame that one on wooziness from the simulation. Not like Matt needs anything else to be smug about.

 

Matt just rolls his eyes and goes right back to fuming. "She _lied_ to me! I can't believe I didn't see through the deception. Asha would have several things to say on the matter, if I actually planned to tell her, which I don't. What she hoped to gain from it-"

 

"Probably just Kinzie being Kinzie. And honestly she scares me shitless sometimes, so I don't recommend trying to get back at her. She never lets anything go. That time after the Christmas party a few years back, when I sorta forgot to attend the press conference-public apology thing the next day and she had to handle it on her own? I try not to even _think_ about what she did in revenge. That was _fucked up_." Pierce didn't talk for _days_ after that incident. "Just...leave her alone."

 

"A bit late for that, I think. She's still bitter over my successful attempt to discredit her in the eyes of the FBI. I've tried telling her I'm a changed man, but for some reason it just doesn't seem to register." Matt makes it over what he calls his "command centre" without so much as a stumble. Looks like he'll be fine, and there's no real need to follow him except that occasionally he's a bit easier to understand than Kinzie, and it's reassuring to know what progress they're making. If he's in a good mood there might be a nice, easy percentage. Maybe even a graph to go with it.

 

The screen just shows a blur of numbers whizzing past. The Boss doesn't bother to ask what they mean.

 

"Have you tried a simple 'I'm sorry'? Not that I'm really one to talk, but sometimes you gotta accept that you're out of options."

 

"I refuse to- debase myself while she continues to use that _demeaning_ nickname she's saddled me with. As if it makes my skill any less valid!" Matt switches between tabs; for a moment there's a flash of bright red desktop background. _NyteBlayde_ in dripping red letters, and the man himself straddling a motorbike underneath it, gun in one hand and some poor guy's severed head hanging from the other.

It's a different picture every time. Where Matt's getting them all from is a mystery probably only Kinzie could solve.

 

"Demeaning nicknames, huh? Sure, I'll bite. What's she calling you? Whatever it is, I can probably find you a better one to use on her."

 

"It's a form of childish retaliation against the evidence I planted suggesting she engaged in adventurous sexual pastimes outside of work hours. Not that it was all _inaccurate_ -"

 

"Yeah, I remember. So what's she got against you?" Though he has an inkling he might know already. Kinzie always did fight dirty.

 

" _Nothing_ , that's the _point_ ," Matt snaps. "And while I can appreciate the symmetry between the subject matter of the evidence I planted against her-"

 

"You mean where you told the FBI she was a dominatrix? Come on, Matt, it's just a word, it'll only bite you if you've been bad. Say it with me now: do-mi-natrix. They do their work for the good of humanity, and we should all be grateful."

 

Sadly, Matt's no longer sixteen and easily thrown off-balance. Whatever training Asha made him go through, it left him with enough self control to stand his ground. "That's entirely beside the point. I was far less mature then, and I have since come to understand my previous errors. She doesn't _need_ to continue her petty vendetta against me!"

 

The Boss has to laugh at Matt's indignation. MI6 made the kid a bit better at dealing with people, but it's just a mask. Like Professor Genki's cat suit; pink and fuzzy on the outside, but it does fuck all to cover up the guy's inner homicidal maniac one he starts setting mascots on fire and laughing as they crisp up like bacon in front of him.

Okay, so maybe the comparison doesn't quite work. This is why he has Ben to write his speeches for him.

 

It'd be funny to just let the two fight it out in increasingly ridiculous ways until one of them snaps, but he does have an alien overlord to depose. "Look, Matt, I need you both cooperating on taking Zinyak's simulation down, and I don't think this is helping. How about you apologise to Kinzie _properly-_ " he lifts a hand to stall Matt's protest, "and I'll tell her to stop making fun of you for not having your cherry popped yet. Sound good?"

 

"I don't see how it makes my opinions any less valid," Matt mutters, but he's clearly caving. " _You_ thought I was worth rescuing."

 

"To be fair,  I'd wondered about you and Asha-"              

 

"Asha? Are you _insane_? Laying aside the fact that she'd do truly awful things to me if I so much as attempted anything...untoward, it would violate the sacred bond we share as mentor and pupil!"

 

"You mean...like if Luke and Yoda-"

 

"Please don't put those images into my head."

 

A smart man would've taken the opportunity to back off, give Matt some time alone to soothe his wounded pride. But Kinzie's told him often enough that he doesn't count as a 'smart man' by any stretch of the imagination. His best stunts were all the result of acting on impulse...though come to think of it, so were his most humiliating failures. But if you don't ask, you don't get. And the thing is, he met Matt a few times after the whole "saving the world and then being sworn into his rightful role as President" thing. MI6 caught on pretty quickly that he was less likely to set his tiger on their agents if they were people he knew. So they sent Asha and her tech guy when they wanted shit negotiated, and he'd do his best to listen, and not think too hard about how much less like a kid Matt was looking every time they met.

 

Ben took him aside after one of the more recent meetings for a _chat_ ; turns out that there's a big difference between "he's technically legal" and "it's morally okay for the President to jump him." It fucking figures. But the rules have changed now, and if they haven't then maybe he's in the mood to break a few.

 

The Boss doesn't lean on Matt's workbench to get his attention; feels like it would be an invasion, like someone taking apart his favourite guns and cleaning them for him. Just the thought of it makes his skin crawl. He does step a little closer though. No point in being a pussy about this.

 

"Matt, I've been thinking...we could all be dead soon, so...shit, I can't believe I'm saying this." As ideas go, it's looking less and less clever by the second. But quitting now would be letting the terrorists win. "You don't have to die a virgin."

 

Matt looks up sharply. "Can you call me NyteBlayde?"

 

"Are you fucking serious?" Jesus fuck, he actually is. Between the desktop backgrounds and the- the poorly written _fanfiction_ Kinzie keeps sending him as part of her anti-Miller smear campaign, he probably should have seen this coming.

 

"You still wanna have a go?" Big blue eyes and a fucking uncertain expression. Maybe it's unintentional, but Matt sure knows how to pull out the big guns. Jesus. There's not enough alcohol aboard the ship to justify going ahead with this; obviously he'll do it anyway. _Go ahead and laugh, Johnny, I've seen some of your 'conquests'._

 

"Oh, what the hell."

 

Matt Miller kisses like he's fighting a battle, with digital swords and fire breathing dragons- and seriously, shouldn't they be past this kind of petty one-upmanship by now? He kisses like it would kill him to let someone take over, and it's going to get him bitten any second now.

 

 _Just go with it_ , he thinks. _For once in your fucking life, just let someone better show you how it's done._

It turns out the trick is to grab him by the back of his neck, fingers in his hair, and lick his mouth open when he goes to make one of those high-pitched squeaks that slip out whenever someone shoots him in simulation. After that he's as easy as any of Zimos' whores, closing his eyes and leaning in for that much more contact. Probably not enough hugs as a child. Well, that's easily fixed.

 

The Boss eases off when it looks like they're going to end up on the couch, because _hey_ , he's got more class than that. Kid's first time calls for a bed. Or a table. Or a convenient stack of boxes. Hell, anywhere Asha isn't likely to walk in and decide to castrate him for fucking her precious protégé.

"Bedroom's that way, princess. You want me to carry you bridal style or-"

 

"I must be bloody _mad_ ," Matt snaps, following him to the door.

 

It took Keith and the Boss a whole day to find the bedrooms after they first arrived on board the ship, mostly because every time they went to ask Kinzie for help she'd be staring blankly at Oleg's disconnected number on her screen. Eventually they figured out that the door opposite the landing bay actually _did_ something, which was fucking fortunate. He'd been wondering if they were going to be stuck on board an alien ship without beds, showers, or a fucking _kitchen_.

 

Captain gets the biggest cabin, of course. It's in the _rules_.

 

"I don't understand how it is that you have a double bed, and I'm stuck sharing a closet with _Pierce_. Don't suppose you'd care to- _oh_." He may be god behind a keyboard, but in his skin Matt's just a scared kid with red cheeks and a fetish for fictional vampire dudes. He doesn't fight being shoved up against the bedroom door, and sucking a hickey into the paper-white skin of his neck just results in a lot of writhing, and not a single slap for being so goddamn _indiscreet_.

 

 _Johnny woulda laughed and then punched me in the face for marking him with anything that isn't a bullet. He'd have left me seeing fucking stars._ The comparison have got to stop. They're not fair on Matt, and it's not like the kid has nothing going for him. Too fucking ticklish when the zipper on his spacesuit is tugged down to navel height, bitching about _cold fingers_ running up his chest, but he wouldn't be Matt without a healthy dose of complaining.

 

Turns out there's pretty much nowhere he isn't ticklish; neck, collar, ribs, hipbones. Too shy to help out with removing clothes, but they'll get there. Nobody's first rodeo is all that great, and he reacts to teeth scraping across his nipples like it's _electrocuting_ him. The noises he makes are fucking impressive.

"Hey, don't go dying on me yet, we're just getting to the fun bit."

 

"Don't you ever shut up?" says the kid who once called himself a 'cyber god', who probably still believes it, who arches into a hand sizing up his cock through his pants and adds a couple of creative expletives to Jesus' name. His ears are bright red under the mess of black hair, but it looks like the _genius_ is still functioning enough to fumble for the Boss' zipper and help with losing the fucking spacesuits.

 

Or try, at least. Something about the tats spread across the Boss' chest and upper arms seems to floor him; he touches like he's not sure he's allowed to.

"You have so many; I hadn't realised."

 

"Comes with the territory." And yeah, the Saints shield taking up half his arm might be a little tasteless, but he was off his head at the time it happened. Pierce is fucking _great_ at coming up with bad ideas when they go drinking. There might have been a reason behind it, some commemoration maybe; there sure isn't one behind the octopus on his chest. He got that one in the early hours of the morning after the mess with Johnny's funeral.

 

Matt seems to gravitate to it. "Is there any point to asking for the story behind this one?"

 

"There doesn't need to be some kind of deep fucking symbolism behind everything, kid. It's just ink."

 

"Of course," Matt says, and then leans forward and _licks_ it. His breath is warm, comes a bit too quick, and he freezes up with his tongue still touching the Boss' skin like his brain just caught up with his libido and decided to throw a bitch fit.

 

The Boss grabs a handful of Matt's hair and tugs until he looks up, exposing his neck- and that's definitely a sensitive spot. He can have some stubble-burn to show off with his hickey, just in case he wants to let people know how lucky he got."Don't you ever stop thinking?"

 

Turns out he does, if he's touched right. Tripping over his own feet to step out of his shoes and spacesuit, he grabs the Boss' shoulders for support and forgets to let go, leans his forehead against the Boss' chest and makes soft, high-pitched sounds like he's in _pain_. Kid should have found himself a fuckbuddy a long time ago, if this is how he reacts to a handjob. There's nothing to be ashamed of here; nice size, won't get him a career in porn, but decent. They shoulda got Zimos to give him the "size doesn't matter" talk before he ran off to MI6 and spent five years of jacking off alone to that NyteBlayde thing.

 

He changes his grip, and Matt's breath hitches. "Oh _god_ ," he says unevenly. It's great to hear; nobody's immune to the Boss when he's actually _trying_ to get them off. He could make the kid cry, get him begging on his knees to make up for those three murder attempts they're supposed to not talk about- but even he has standards. Save it for next time Matt starts thinking _he_ might be the one in charge around here.

 

He gives Matt's cock another quick stroke, makes sure he gets to really _feel_ it, and then slides his hands to Matt's hips, tugging him in close. "So I'm not normally much of a team player, but this always goes better if both parties are on board." _You gonna touch me or what?_ he means, but that seems like it might get misinterpreted a bit. "Where are we going with this, huh? Don't tell me you never thought about it. We're a little short on rose petals and scented candles, but if you wanted a serenade I'm totally up for it. Pick your song."

 

"That-that won't be necessary," Matt lifts his head to say. He does a decent job of not sounding too shaky, and kudos to him for the effort; it doesn't cover up the way he grinds helplessly up against one of the Boss' thighs. "I-um, was hoping we could be a bit more...intimate. If you take my meaning."

 

 _Jesus Christ, this is right up there with that one night with Pierce._ The kid's fucking lucky he has a great ass; Johnny woulda gagged him by now.

There's a thought.

 

He sets it aside for another time. "You don't even know what you're asking for."

 

"I _do_." Matt squares his shoulders, like he's forgotten that he doesn't have that stupid collar to make his slim shoulders a little more imposing. "I'm very familiar with the- the mechanics of-"

 

"Me fucking you? I mean, I get that it's probably all you think about, I'm pretty damn great and even better in bed. But you might want to take it slow, warm up to things-"

 

" _I_ _own the collection of NyteBlayde sex toys, alright_?"

 

The Boss feels his eyebrows lift at that, because...well, _shit_. You think you know a guy. "....You have got to be kidding me."

 

"Well, I suppose past tense would be more accurate given that they no longer exist. But while I did have them they were very...um. Good. _Excellent_ , if we're being completely honest." He looks seconds away from just bolting, and maybe he would if he still had clothes on. Or if he knew the Boss wouldn't give him hell about it for the rest of however long they end up living. Either way, he stands where he is, hands resting loosely on the Boss' shoulders and tries not to make eye contact.

 

An embarrassed Matt Miller is right up there with an unmasked Killbane. The Boss takes a few glorious moments to enjoy the picture being painted for him.

_Did you ever think of me, Matt? After I beat you at your own game and let you live, did you ever shut your eyes and wish you'd had the guts to come find me in meat-space?_

_'Course you did._

He grabs Matt's chin and kisses him, slow this time, dragging out every filthy second until he gets some enthusiasm in the response. _There's_ the guy who sees a tattoo and can't stop himself from licking it; same guy who admits to owning a line of sex toys based off his favourite show.

 

"Oh, Matt. That is hands down the most erotic thing I've heard since starting up that giant robot to come rescue you."

 

"Really?"

 

"Mm, yeah."

 

"Oh. Well, that's good then. I mean-" and that's about as far as he gets before the Boss bites his lip a little too hard to shut him up. Still, he seems to have taken the hint; his hands drift down the Boss' chest and get to work on the neglected zip of his spacesuit. He clearly has no idea what to actually do with another guy's cock once it's _there_ , but he can take pointed suggestions like a champ, and it improves from there.

 

He's learning from the best, of course.

 

They make it to the infamous double bed eventually (and sure, maybe he could share with someone, but given that he's the one doing all the work in Zinyak's goddamn simulation it seems fair that he should have some peace and quiet when he needs it). Matt starts losing inhibitions a lot faster once they're horizontal, like he feel safer now he knows the Boss isn't going to just fuck him up against a wall. He digs black nails into the Boss' back, bites one of his collarbones and then the black octopus tat. When the Boss gets a hand under Mat and nudges him onto his stomach, he goes without a word of protest.

Okay, so that's not exactly true. But it _could_ have been.

 

"I hope you're not planning on using saliva. You aren't, are you? Because it's possible I could have thought this through a bit better, given our current circumstances."

 

"Hey, I have standards! And, you know, codes of decency that I mostly stick to. I found a few things lying around."

 

" _Lying around?_ "

 

By which he means, the first thing he did when they found the bedrooms was go exploring. Turns out the ship has anything and everything a crew of fairly unbalanced humans suffering from cabin fever and a lack of hookers could want. And yeah, his first thought upon opening the bedside cabinet and finding a stash that Zimos himself couldn't fault was, _that's weird, isn't this supposed to be an alien ship?_ But as with the spacesuits that fit them all like they were measured and the kitchen conveniently stocked full of food they can all eat, it's easier to just run with it.

 

Matt flinches at the first cold intrusion, bites his own wrist to keep the bitching in (but the Boss imagines it anyway for amusement's sake, and it'd go something like _Boss, I find you devilishly attractive even when I shout at you for failing the ridiculously overcomplicated tasks I set, but the least you could have done is warmed the lube up a bit_ ). To make up for it he leans over Matt's twitching back and starts sucking a trail of kisses down his spine, easing in a second finger as he does so. Slow and smooth, letting Matt set his own pace- and he does, muscles relaxing, moving his thighs another inch apart. His hips jerk slightly in time with the Boss' fingers, grinding up against whatever friction he can muster from the bedspread underneath him. It might be his first proper rodeo, but the kid's clearly ridden a mechanical bull on occasion.

 

 _Hey, that's a good one. Better hold onto it in case Ben needs extra material for his sequel_.

 

He mouths at Matt's spine one last time and tells himself the slightly chemical aftertaste of spaceship soap probably doesn't mean he's going to die.

"You good, Matt?"

 

And miracle of fucking miracles, all his consideration gets him is a flushed glare from Matt. His pupils are blown to _hell_ though, and he actually groans as the Boss removes his fingers.

"If you could get a move on, I have simulations to build and-and code to write. Also meetings to attend. Um. So if you could-"

 

Be nice to make him squirm a little longer, but the Boss is capable of mercy when he needs a break from being awesome 24/7. And if he's honest he loves this. Loves that Matt can't actually look him fully in the eyes, loves the way the glare ends up around chest height and lingers on various tattoos with way too much hunger. Someone's kinks are showing, lit up like neon over a strip club. It's a good look on Matt.

 

"Lift your hips, like that, yeah. Anyone tell you how _great_ your ass is?" He grabs for a whole lot of pale skin, squeezes just to make Matt squeak, and wonders how long it would take to convince him that a nice Saints tattoo of his very own would only improve the view. Or maybe a _Property of the President_ in bright purple ink. _Fuck_ yeah. Pierce can draw him a rough draft later.

 

For now he lays a palm in the middle of Matt's back and presses down until he takes the hint and arches, weight on his arms. " _There_ you go. Fuck, you look so good like this. And I'm not just saying that, I don't just throw out that kind of compliment. You're fucking _amazing_ ," and he slides in slow, closing his eyes and counting the inches. It feels perfect, good enough to kill for, and if Matt's hoarse groan is anything to go by, he agrees.

 

Patience. He wants to take his time here, make the experience something that'll keep them both up at night for a while now. Hands tight on Matt's hips, he starts rocking forward in gentle strokes, and gives himself a mental high five when he feels Matt begin to rock back in response.

 

"How's this feeling for you?"

 

"Carry on like this and I'll- _god, oh_..." Matt pauses to swallow, and the Boss pauses. "You'll what now?"

 

"I am _not_ begging!"

 

"Come on, baby, let me hear you. I want to hear my name, you can do it."

 

" _Bloody hell_ , you utter, _fucking_ bastard-"

 

Eh, good enough.

"Puckish rogue, actually" the Boss says cheerfully, and slowly starts to move again.

 

It starts out awesome and ends with Matt pressed face-first against the covers, spine arched and ass in the air; he's too out of breath to really _howl_ , but the occasional high pitched whimper makes it out. Sounds like a combination of _oh god-fuck-Boss-please_ , and it's damn flattering.

 

This counts as team bonding, right? Because he's feeling really benevolent towards Matt right now, and the way his thighs shake with the strain of keeping himself in place- but he's too fucking stubborn to bring it up, or maybe too far gone to care. Going off the white-knuckled grip he has on the bedspread underneath him, it's probably the latter.

 

He snaps his hips sharply, leans forward and rests a hand on top on one of Matt's; after a moment, Matt threads their fingers together.

_You're gonna remember this, kid. Matt. You'll be one of those fucking annoying assholes who actually enjoy their first time. Hell, you'll be jacking off to thoughts of me long after someone does us all a favour and puts me six feet under with a bullet to the brain. Come on, let me hear you._

"Right there, _right there, oh god-"_ and he slows the pace obligingly so Matt can fumble for his own cock, jerking himself off with ragged strokes that match his breathing, and the pounding of his pulse where he grips the Boss' hand that much too tight. He's losing it, they both are- _fuck it, I am the motherfucking President of the United States, I can hold out ten seconds more if he needs me to._

 

"Boss, I'm," and that's as far as Matt gets before his hips jerk helplessly and he buries his face in the blankets like it'll keep the rest of the ship from hearing him yell.

 

Something about the embarrassment, the swagger he left behind somewhere outside the bedroom door, the way he has to hide how bad he's lost control...it's _all_ Matt, and it's just the right kind of fucking _crazy_ hot that sends him over the edge with just enough warning to squeeze Matt's hand so he knows.

 

He makes sure to keep his mouth shut as he comes. Still can't be sure whose name might come out, though he'd like to think it would be the right one.

 

Things are fuzzy for a while after that, but his body is trained to do what his mind can't be fucked dealing with, so they both end up semi-clean and as close to cuddling as they can get without becoming _sentimental_. On his back with an arm around Matt's shoulders, Matt's head resting gingerly on his chest. They're gonna have to work on that sometime. Maybe he'll draw the kid a diagram.

 

"Not bad, Matt," he says eventually.

 

"Cheers." A couple of seconds of silence while they both process that, and then Matt covers his eyes with one black-nailed hand. "Please pretend I said something sufficiently alluring and- not that."

 

"You got it." He still laughs though, and after that things start feeling a whole lot more natural between them. Not natural like Johnny, nowhere near, but at least he's not getting twitchy from the contact. That's _progress_.

 

Matt shifts restlessly, brushing his fringe behind an ear. "Are you going to tell me how long you've been planning to do this? Because I'll admit, I've been somewhat expecting it for a while now, even before Zinyak destroyed our- our home. And then when you rescued me...well, I won't deny you have many talents, but subtlety is not among them."

 

"Oh yeah?" He grins up at the ceiling and thinks about giving Matt a Benjamin 'Motherfucking' King-style lecture on how the lack of subtlety went both ways. But he's still buzzed from the sex, and it's just easier to start idly stroking Matt's hair instead. That'll teach him. "So what gave me away, mister "MI6 Superspy", huh? Was it the _poetry_ I wrote? Or the special outfit I programmed just for you? Oh, wait a second, that's not me we're talking about-"

 

"You're wearing bloody Deckers underwear in the simulation, of course I noticed!"

 

"Knew you'd be looking." Hell, they probably all were, which means he may be fielding an awkward visit from Asha at some point. Still, she's a sensible woman. Chances are she'll just rough him up a bit and then tell him not traumatise the Q to her Bond too badly. And speaking of beatings, he does have to go talk to Kinzie soon. Get it over with. "Though I kinda figured 'subtle' would probably go right over your head. Honestly, I was on the point of just wearing the whole damn outfit."

 

"It's a great outfit! And it would go far better with your complexion than that god-awful purple shirt you insist on wearing. The least you could do is _try_ it."

 

"That's right, babe, you keep dreaming big." Time to get the damn talk with Kinzie sorted, and then maybe do a couple of missions for her until she stops seething. The things he does to keep the peace between his crew... Also, where the _fuck_ did his clothes end up?

 

The Boss gets as far as the door before Matt calls him back. Muffled, because he has his head shoved under one of the pillows.

"I feel I should ask before you go and I'm left to wonder; did you _really_ have your name legally changed to "The Boss", or was that just your idea of a prank? Because I looked it up back at MI6 and it seems like just the kind of thing you'd find _hilarious-_ "

 

"Saints Boss, actually. Jesus, Matt, at least wait until I'm gone before you forget my name-"

 

"Oh my _god,_ you actually did it."

 

"Sure. But I'm not picky, I'll answer to "Mister President" or "Sir" if you prefer one of them."

 

He can't make out any recognisable words in Matt's muffled howl, but they're probably something nice like, "Good luck taking my side against Kinzie, Boss," or "Come back soon, I'll be waiting." Maybe both. _Yeah_.

 

Kinzie is sitting in the cockpit, tapping away at her laptop keyboard in a way that he's learnt means _this had better be fucking important because I'm pissed and you're expendable_. Like a queen micromanaging her country, except that it's _his_ country. He just knows how to delegate, that's all.

"Kinzie, how're you doing. Listen-"

 

She turns to shoot him a filthy look; her fingers don't even hesitate on the keyboard. The girl probably hacks in her fucking sleep.

"Urgh, _fine_ , I'll lay off on the teasing.  Though I hope you realise you could have just asked me to stop, instead of putting yourself through a traumatic experience that you'll need counselling for once this is over."

 

Huh. In hindsight he probably should've seen this coming. "Kinzie, do you have cameras installed in my private Captain's quarters?"

 

"No, thank _god_. But I do have a few set up around Matt's work station and I really, _really_ didn't need to see more than that."

 

"Good. Great. So you'll stop-"

 

"I'll stop referring to him as "Virginy Virgin Matt Miller", yes. Now would please you leave me alone? Unlike some people, I have actual _work_ to do."

 

"I- yeah, ok. I'll just tell Matt to wait until you're feeling people friendly before he comes by to apologise for that FBI thing. Sound good?

" _Leave_."

 

Still worth it.


End file.
